In the living room,
Light low,
Surrounded by conversation,
Sporadically joining—
The thoughts crept in
of him
And the words I said.
The futures that align
In dreams—
But do they in calling?
there is someone out there
Better for him.
Not because I am belittling
Myself, just because
his love should be returned
Tenfold.
As I think, the voices
Rejoin my headspace,
The exterior conversation.
Radiation mentioned.
Chernobyl.
chernobyl.
Why did that word,
That event,
have to come up now?
These characters on TV,
This show I just resumed
In the absence of voices,
The end of a conversation,
they bring one another
To meet their friends.
They get along.
They click.
It isn’t as hard as this.
is it all too forced?
There is fighting for it,
Repairing, working it out,
And there is futile effort.
there is disobedience
To a future calling
He has meticulously planned.
2d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 12:03 AM UTC
A meltdown as I searched,
The minute turning 12:00,
High hopes, high hopes—
Where was it?
Descended into nonsense.
My leftover Thai food.
The tears began to fall.
I sounded like a whiny child.
It wasn’t the food, was it?
It was another nose
Of another bottle, bursting
From the pressure.
Crying for no reason.
Treating my mum unfairly.
As if I were a puppet
Masking my own stress.
I did not yell, I just cried.
I felt senseless and uncontrolled.
God, help stabilise me.
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 3:25 PM UTC
I can convince myself
Of a lot of things.
I can hyper analyse
Until I see the sense.
It may be unpleasant
But it is better
Than no answer,
Or holding falsity.
But there are two things
I cannot puzzle out.
My Savior’s love,
and his.
When will it stop?
I hold my intuition.
Am I simply
Romanticising it—
This space between.
Did I make him up?
Did he make me up?
Are we both holding
Onto the versions
We imagined?
3d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 2:05 AM UTC
At my breaking point
It’s okay
It’s okay
It’s okay
Distraction was key.
But as they pulled out,
Scraped my car,
it wasn’t okay anymore.
Barely noticeable,
A scratch I will tell
No one about.
I let them go.
As they swept across my car
But “didn’t feel anything.”
It’s okay
It’s okay
It’s okay
Have to dry my eyes.
Worst day to not
Wear makeup.
I couldn’t speak.
I simply broke.
I feel weak.
I want him.
I can’t.
It’s okay
It’s okay
It’s okay
God hold me
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:15 PM UTC
I shake until I create.
Yet I feel underqualified
To make anything of value.
The originality escapes me.
I sit and I stare--
I dwell and I overcomplicate.
I ignore Your hand.
I take Your gifts for granted.
I shrink myself for others,
As if I were helping them.
Yet, I shake nonetheless.
The need to create--
It pervades me.
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 2:28 AM UTC
caught his hand.
caught his eye.
I just want more of You, God.
I want You. I want You.
take the trip wires.
help me stand.
I just want more of You, God.
I want More. I want More.
hold him close.
wrap me up warm.
I just want more of You, God.
I want You. I want You.
I want You, More.
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 2:18 AM UTC
The mirages shift in semblance,
The angles, the blocks of color,
They become translucent, refracting,
Handling light with care and chaos.
I stand in the center, eyes open,
Feeling each beam of shifting ray
Splice my bones, my internal world,
Eating away the skin around my heart
Until every atom has become altered.
Only one unchanged Home remains,
The Center where He resides,
In the atrium and the ventricles,
the ***** He will always claim.
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 2:11 AM UTC
I search for Your pillar of fire,
yet I find only a cloud.
A request to Rest, here, now,
no more walking forward.
“There is time, Child.”
“Rest your legs, your eyes,
Let the beat of your heart
slow in my hands
As you rest under my Shade.”
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 1:56 AM UTC
Where do I start
when my feet are already bare,
my throat sore and raw,
my mind a desert of asphalt--
Where do I start
when the novelty has worn off,
the rags used for bandages,
just strips from my t-shirt--
Where do I start
when my chest is a loading screen,
my brows heavy from determination,
my anxiety overrun by truth--
Where do I start
when I am whole and broken,
a vase simply glued back together,
just a semblance of propriety--
Where do I start
when words no longer join,
my skills have rusted and worn,
my hands shake with hesitation--
Where do I start
when the joy has increased
along with the despair and sorrow,
the rightness and grief intermingled--
Lord, I ask--
Where Do I Start?
May 27
May 27, 2026 at 1:52 AM UTC
A run in my pillowcase,
My legs stretching below me,
Only in my mind, only in my eyes,
Over the uneven surfaces,
The splodgy bumps on the wall—
The paint that tries to cover it.
I cannot cover the errors.
The snags in my soul.
I know the One who sees them
And chooses to reweave
Every strand of tangled hair,
Put each thread in its place,
His Masterpiece without fault.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 3:14 AM UTC